Burning Chrome

The unnamed protagonist of “The Gernsback Continuum” serves two roles within the story. First, as a thoughtful analyst and talented photographer, he provides both vivid descriptions and critical analysis of examples of the Streamlined Moderne style. His exposition of this style and critique of its implications is key to the essayistic elements of “The Gernsback Continuum,” by which Gibson defines the style’s persistent cultural impact as well as its over-idealism and other shortcomings. Second, the narrator’s struggles to process the Streamlined Moderne and the hallucinations he witnesses are a vehicle for exploring the uncanny effects of the imagined future on the psychology of the individual. While he initially experiences these effects as hallucinations that frighten him, by the end of the story he has come to accept them as his “little bundle of condensed catastrophe” that he carries with him in life (36). 

The only figure in the action of “Fragments of a Hologram Rose,” Parker exemplifies the many downtrodden, dispossessed characters that populate Burning Chrome. He is obsessive, like many of these other characters are, reliant on his ASP machine to obtain psychological comfort and even to sleep. While he is downtrodden and barely holding his life together, he is also technologically sophisticated, keeping his worn-out ASP machine and inducer running with “patch cords, miniature alligator clips, and black tape” (37). “Fragments of a Hologram Rose” is short and fragmented, instantiating its title, and Parker does not evolve over the course of the story. Instead, he is achingly pulled back to the virtual reality of his ASP machine just as he seems to be on the brink of an epiphany or personal revelation. This loss emphasizes the portrait of Parker as a broken character. 

In “The Belonging Kind,” Corretti brings an obsession like that plaguing Parker out into the world, as he becomes infatuated with Antoinette. Initially interested in her because she gave the lonely, socially awkward Michael some attention, he is compelled to seek her, to the point that he loses his job, connections, and health. The narrator’s perspective in “The Belonging Kind” is omniscient, so readers are given a description of Antoinette as she becomes a psychedelic swirl of colors and her dress turns to “green foam, fizzing, dissolving, gone” before she transforms into another person (48). The narrator’s role is limited, however, and there is little commentary on what Michael sees. As a result, readers cannot be sure if what Michal sees is real, or if his vision of Antoinette is only an illusion of his mind. Whether a vision or not, Corretti’s ultimate encounter with Antoinette exercises a deep influence on him: He sees her “soft-ruby tubes […], tendrils tipped with sharp lips” in what he deems a “mating” ritual, and afterward he for once feels like “a real human being” (60).

Halpert, from “The Hinterlands,” is an antihero in the sense that he is flawed. He is unable to make it on one of the coveted expeditions to explore the ostensibly benevolent alien civilization reaching out to humanity from an area called Heaven, and he is crippled by an attack of the outer-space phenomenon known as “the Fear.” Halpert’s psychological woes link him to characters in other stories from Burning Chrome, including Corretti from “The Belonging Kind” and the narrator of “The Gernsback Continuum.” Despite Halpert’s shortcomings, in the course of the story, he (like his girlfriend Charmian) proves to have an intelligence that others do not, a meta-awareness of the strange situation his space station’s crew members find themselves in. This intelligence is most notably expressed when he compares the crews to houseflies on airplanes, bumbling around the world not really knowing what is going on. While Halpert remains a flawed character at the end of the story, he accepts that he and Charmian “have the drive, though, that special need, that freak dynamic that lets us keep going back to Heaven” (82).

Korolev’s character in “Red Star, Winter Orbit” facilitates an original thought experiment. What would it be like for space exploration to be so prevalent that individuals might grow old on a space station? What would happen when space station life is so entrenched that there might be the risk of rebellion against order and established ways of doing things? Korolev expands on the notion of the flawed space station protagonist suggested by Halpert in “The Hinterlands”: Old, decrepit, and even ridiculed, Korolev is the antithesis of the confident and charismatic protagonists of classic science fiction. At the same time, his ability to successfully inspire and lead a rebellion as a “moral authority” proves that cyberpunk heroes can take the most unlikely of forms.

Over the course of “Red Star, Winter Orbit,” Korolev evolves, assuming a second life as a driven leader. However, the story eludes the pat and predictable closure and victory that would have been found in a simpler story. At the end of “Red Star, Winter Orbit,” both the rebellious force and those they fought against have been eradicated. Korolev is the sole survivor, ultimately saved by the Americans whom the commanders of the space station thought had been vanquished. Korolev’s opportunity to achieve as a leader is thus thwarted. 

These two characters form another of the divergent pairs that appear throughout Burning Chrome. In the present-time action of “New Rose Hotel,” Fox has been killed, and Sandii, a woman who betrayed both Fox and the narrator, has disappeared. The narrator reflects on their meaning for him, however. While the narrator carries forth the action of the story, explaining the events that led to him having to hide out in the hotel after being set up, Fox serves as a source of wisdom and enlightenment, explaining things like the fact that even though they are on the hunt for “the Edge,” or human talent, the “dominant form of intelligence” in their society is composed of the powerful megacorporations called the zaibatsus (114). Both Fox and the narrator exemplify cyberpunk traits of criminality and ingenuity as well as isolation. Neither undergoes real evolution over the course of the story; instead, the story’s ultimate takeaway is the sense of loss, confinement, and detachment that the narrator expresses in the beginning of “New Rose Hotel,” alone in his “coffin.” 

The trio of Casey, Rubin, and Lise in “The Winter Market” explore the cyberpunk characterization of technology as simultaneously fascinating and dangerous. Casey is a highly proficient and creative master of technology, much like Johnny from “Johnny Mnemonic” and Automatic Jack from “Burning Chrome.” Rubin is his own kind of master, of junk and the detritus of technology. As the master of the “garbage, kipple, refuse, the sea of cast-off goods our century floats on” (126), Rubin has much to teach Casey, particularly about human relationships. Casey is enamored with Lise, calling her an “artist” and “pro.” Lise fleetingly suggests she has evolved by working with Casey when she opens up to him about her background, disease, injuries, and addictions. She also opens a world to Casey, new levels of imaginative experience that he explores on his own by “jack[ing] straight across” with Lise (130), but also through the virtual reality works that his studio creates.

Deke from “Dogfight” is the prime cyberpunk antihero in Burning Chrome, an unredeemable figure with not just criminal tendencies, but also a total lack of concern for others. When he meets Nance, she appears like a beacon of hope and possibility. Deke is honest with her about his past, and they bond over what they share: Both are controlled by their respective brainlocks, and both are determined to excel in their respective ventures.

Given Nance’s extraordinary programming proficiency with “state of the art, professional projective wetware gear” (159), her story is one of destroyed promise. When Deke assaults her to take the last dose of hype, he ruins her opportunity to ace her interview and cast off her brainlock. She is left without the chance to grow and evolve. Deke, on the other hand, could be said to devolve over the course of “Dogfight.” His determination to become the best player of Fokkers and Spads and defeat Tiny does not lead him to improve, but rather brings out his worst tendencies and reveals his base concern of feeling inadequate for never having had a materially comfortable life like Nance—never having “had the kind of edge it takes to get along” (171). In leaving Deke alone, rejected, and unwanted at the end, “Dogfight” emphasizes the deplorability of Deke’s actions and his isolation. 

As a pair of talented, technologically and criminally savvy cyberpunks, Automatic Jack and Bobby Quine from “Burning Chrome” parallel the narrator and Fox from “New Rose Hotel.” On the other hand, the story makes the distinctions between the two characters especially clear. At one point, Jack simply notes “Bobby’s software and Jack’s hard” (181), but he later acknowledges that “Bobby had this thing for girls, like they were his private tarot or something” while he reflects on Rikki with genuine care (182). Ultimately, neither character is given the opportunity to develop over the course of “Burning Chrome.” Instead, like many characters from the collection, they simply experience profound loss when Rikki leaves.